


Somebody I used to know

by epeeblade



Category: Fringe, Leverage, Supernatural, White Collar
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 13:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A demon steals an artifact from a New York City museum, leaving eyeless bodies in her wake. Two branches of the FBI show up to investigate – Agent Olivia Dunham, sure this is another fringe event and Special Agent Peter Burke, certain this museum theft falls under the jurisdiction of his white collar department. </p><p>The feds get in the way of Sam and Dean's own investigation, but the brothers are aided by Nate Ford and his team, all desperate to know how they can save one of their own. But just why has this demon possessed Parker and what is she up to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the [Supernatural Crossover Bigbang](http://sncross-bigbang.livejournal.com/). Once I figure out how, I'll make or join the proper collection:)
> 
> Thanks to Lapillus for the beta as always. Thanks to my lovely artist for her amazing art (Link here when I get it).
> 
> Timeline notes: This takes place early in season 4 for Fringe, early season 3 for White Collar, mid season 7 in Supernatural, and early season 4 Leverage.
> 
> This was ridiculously fun to write.

This poor excuse for a museum had only the most minimal of security systems, barely updated to current standards. But of course, this place didn’t hold masterpieces or royal jewels. It’s most crowning achievement was the exhibit of moon rocks on the first floor. Ordinarily this place was beneath her notice.

She supposed the dinosaur bones might be worth something, but they'd be awfully hard to fence.

No, she was here for something very special – an exhibit this place had been most fortunate to get. That should have merited some more impressive security measures, but apparently hiring a few extra security guards during the day to deal with protesters was deemed enough.

"Alarms are off. Cameras will be static for the next sixty seconds." She thought his name was Ivan. It didn't matter. He was one of the hired hands for the evening, since this was one job she couldn't do herself.

"Then let's move quickly." She led the way into the exhibit and felt her skin crawl the moment they entered the room. Yes, finally, it was here.

"Will you get a load of that?" Another of her hires poked at the glass case protecting a set of ancient jewelry. In another lifetime she might take a closer look. No, her target was in the very center – the clay box under the spotlight.

"You can have whatever you want. I just need the contents of that box." She tilted her head toward it.

As she guessed, one of them wasn't too happy about that. "How do we know what's in there isn't worth more than this whole damn room?"

"Why don't you open it and see? If you really think it's worth more then we can renegotiate." She smiled, and even in this body it seemed she still had it. The man went right for it, hands outstretched to lift the lid off of the box.

"Hurry up, Lou. Thirty seconds before the cameras come back."

She slid behind a pillar and covered her eyes with both arms. That's when the screaming started.


	2. Chapter 1

Sam Winchester could tell by the police activity that something had already happened inside the Museum of Natural History. They drove past, as if they hadn't planned on stopping at all before Dean turned down a side street and pulled over.

"What are the odds that this doesn't have anything to do with the thing we're looking for?" Dean thumped the steering wheel.

Sam had run across it online – the one time he managed to snag the computer from Dean. There were several google alerts he had going, looking for anything that might give them the advantage against the Leviathan. He got a hit for an artifact that was part of an exhibit from Jordan – a strange box covered in Enochian symbols.

"You're thinking cursed object?" So far there haven't been any deaths associated with this exhibit, but it looked like things had changed.

"Maybe somebody opened Pandora's box." Dean's face lit up. "Hey, you think this could actually be Pandora's box?"

"Writing is in Enochian, not Greek." Sam opened up the glove compartment and pulled out their newly minted FBI badges. "Want to check it out, Agent Smith?"

Dean grabbed his. "Don't mind if I do, Agent Smith."

***

Neal liked it better when they arrived after the bodies had already been bagged and tagged. It wasn't that he was squeamish, it was just that Neal preferred it when their cases were strictly of the cat and mouse variety, where he got to show off his skills without risking his life. Things got messy when murder was involved. There was a reason he never strayed from white collar crime. Neal didn't like messy, he preferred his crime smooth as silk.

He avoided looking at the bodies and skimmed the rest of the scene, ignoring the agents swarming around. The exhibit had been on loan from the country of Jordan, so it had political significance, even if nothing beneath the glass seemed worth the trouble of stealing, not for the heat it would draw. Neal cast an assessing eye on the jewels in one case – there were scratch marks on the glass, so clearly the thieves had been interested in it at one point.

Separate from the other antiquities, there had been a little dais set up with a classic stand display. The bodies were arranged around it, making that the epicenter of the activity. Neal stepped closer to see what was so important.

The box looked carved from solid rock and was covered with arcane symbols. The lid had been shoved to the side, and it was only sheer luck it hadn't tumbled to the ground and broken.

Peter fell into step beside him. "Notice anything interesting?"

"Nothing's missing. Except for whatever was in there." Neal gestured toward the box. For some reason it repelled him. He didn't even want to touch it despite the gloves he'd borrowed from the CSI unit. "Was it worth killing the others over?"

Peter made a face – his expression said something puzzled him, and Peter was rarely befuddled by anything. "All of the bodies are missing their eyes. Like they were burned out."

Neal blinked and looked down. "Last I heard, the Ark of the Covenant wasn't kept in Jordan."

"Despite the hat, you're not Indiana Jones, either." Peter flicked the brim of Neal's fedora. "We need to talk to the curator. Come on."

But someone was already speaking to the curator – a tall blonde woman in a smartly belted black trench. Neal admired her sense of style for a moment, before he picked up the fed body language. He didn't recognize her from Peter's team.

The reason became clear as they got close. "Agent Burke? I'm Agent Olivia Dunham, out of the Boston office." She handed Peter a letter. "I'll be taking over this investigation."

"The hell you will." Peter snatched the paper with such force it nearly ripped. "You don't have jurisdiction here."

"If you'll just read the notice." She was very patient, and had that air of someone who knew she was right.

Neal hadn't gotten her figured out quite yet, but he knew he would. It was only a matter of time.

"Look," the curator interrupted – he was a short man, balding on top, but letting his hair grow to his shoulders. "I don't see why you can't just work together, like those two agents in the surveillance room."

"What two agents?" Peter stopped reading.

"Smith and Smith? No relation?" The curator blinked at them. "The two men who showed up just before you got here."

Peter exchanged a quick look with Agent Dunham. "We'll settle jurisdiction later."

She nodded. "Take us to the surveillance room."

***

Olivia followed the other agent and his CI who hastily introduced himself as they went up the stairs to the surveillance room. Neal Caffrey was too pretty to be anything but an informant, and Olivia wondered about his area of expertise. Burke waved for quiet as they got closer.

She'd left Astrid downstairs with the crew cataloging the bodies with their mysteriously missing eyes. Olivia needed to be back there – to coordinate when Walter requested the inevitable transport of evidence to his lab. But they needed to find out who was in the surveillance room claiming to be FBI agents.

Snatches of conversation reached them as they moved closer. Olivia frowned, attempting to make out the words.

"…no camera flare….not a shapeshifter…"

The hackles on the back of her neck went up and she pulled out her sidearm.

"Whoa there," Neal whispered.

Olivia ignored him. If these men knew about shapeshifters they could be incredibly dangerous. She wasn't going to take the chance.

Something must have tipped them off – whether it was Neal's whisper or her cocking the gun. The conversation stopped and two figures came barreling out of the room.

"Stop, FBI!" Olivia called.

They darted down an emergency exit and she ran after them, Burke on her heels. She could tell they were going to get away – they had a head start and were already far ahead of her. Olivia jumped down the last few steps, landing hard, but not stopping to catch her breath as she dove out the door that led outside the museum.

Just in time to see Burke's CI stick out a leg and trip a very tall man in a suit. The man landed in a heap. Olivia aimed her weapon. "FBI. Don't move."

Burke came from behind, pulling out a set of handcuffs. "Neal, what did I tell you about chasing suspects on your own?"

"Not without a vest?" Neal answered absently. He had his eyes focused on the guy Burke was currently cuffing.

Olivia tried to see what was so interesting. The perp had shaggy brown hair, narrow hazel eyes, and a nose pointy enough to pop a tire. The suit filled out his broad shoulders, but he didn't carry himself like an agent or an officer.

"We lost the other one." She skimmed the area around the museum, but didn't see a trace of the other guy.

"You're a glass half empty kind of gal, aren't you?"

Olivia didn't answer Neal. She needed to find out what this man knew about shapeshifters, and apparently she was going to have to work with Agent Burke to do that. That was fine, for now. But once they starting coming up on classified material, she'd have to take over. Broyles wouldn't be happy about letting yet another case agent into Fringe Division secrets, and he'd be even less happy with Neal Caffrey.

***

Alec Hardison rubbed at his eyes, willing them to stay open just a little bit longer. The glare from the computer screens was starting to burn, but he couldn't afford to stop. He had three monitors each running different programs, plus another on his netbook and a fourth on his phone. Maybe one of them would have a hit.

"I made you a sandwich." Eliot dropped the plate next to Hardison's elbow. "Roasted turkey with a homemade pesto mayo and gruyere on focaccia bread. I baked the bread myself."

"Yeah, thanks, man." Hardison waved him off. There was one more program he had to run – this one looked through hospital records. Thank goodness for electronic medical billing.

"Hardison. We're going to find her."

It stopped him in his tracks. He couldn't turn around and look at Eliot, because if he did, then Hardison would lose it. He'd kept it together this long, he wasn't about to break down now.

Parker had disappeared five days ago. Five days, 13 hours, 47 minutes, 32 seconds. Hardison had a timer running on his phone to keep him going. But the timer ceased to be inspiration and just became another reminder of how he was failing her.

He should have realized something was wrong when she came to his room that night. There was something off in her voice, and he'd teased her about imitating Sophie's accent. She played it off, and he didn't question her. Why would he?

If he hadn't dropped that bottle of mountain dew, Hardison never would have found out. He jumped as the soda sprayed everywhere, letting out a "Christ!" almost as an afterthought.

Parker's eyes had turned black. He blinked at her, not trusting what he saw.

"Hardison, are you listening to me?" Eliot brought him back with a hard shake of his shoulder. "If you don't eat, you'll be no good to us when we do find her."

Hardison whirled around and picked up the damn sandwich. He bit into it, but all of Eliot's cooking was wasted on him. It tasted like ashes in his mouth. "And do you believe me? About the rest of it?"

Eliot ran a hand through his unruly hair. "She wouldn't have left like that. Not if Parker was Parker."

"But demons though, none of us signed up for that." Hardison punched up the website where he'd found descriptions of the same symptoms he'd noticed in Parker. It wasn't at all like The Exorcist.

One of his machines started to beep. Not daring to hope, Hardison pulled up the program scanning law enforcement network traffic. This one had a hit on a surveillance video the FBI was processing into a database. "Eliot. I found her."


	3. Chapter 2

Dean had gone back to their hotel room on the Jersey side of the river, packed up all their shit, but didn't check out. He drove over to the motel about a mile down the road and grabbed a room there. Apparently he'd traded up. The wifi in this place didn't crap out every thirty seconds.

He plopped onto the bed and dropped his head into his hands. This used to be easier. There was a time when he didn't have to stop and think about what protocol he and Sam had come up with to dodge tails. They'd come a long way from using the phone book and checking in under silly names.

Sam had given him the signal – work the case, then worry about breaking Sam out. Dean just had to hope Sam could hold it together while on the inside. Best case scenario – they'd throw Sam into the crazy house before the big house.

But he understood why Sam had done it – if they could find something that gave them the advantage over the Leviathans, Dean had to follow up on it. He was going to make those bastards pay.

Dean picked up his cell phone and flipped through the contact list. He stared at Bobby's name, thumb hovering over the dial number. There wouldn't be an answer.

"Damn it." Dean tossed the phone on the bed. He had to snap out of it, work the case, do this without back up.

He opened up the laptop and pulled up the pictures Sam had taken of the box in the museum earlier with his phone. Luckily Sam had emailed the photos before they'd gotten caught. The symbols carved into the rock were clearly Enochian.

"Where's Cas when you need him?" Dean grimaced right after he said it. He wished for Cas's presence a million times a day, and not just to translate Enochian for him.

Well, there was only one thing for it. Time to dig out the dictionaries and do the translation his own damn self. And then somehow figure out what the hell a demon wanted with the contents. And after that, rescue Sam from the feds.

Easy as pie.

***

Hardison liked the irony of camping outside the FBI building in Lucille II, watching the watchers in their own surveillance van. He wished Parker was next to him so he could make the joke and then explain it. Instead he had his head buried in his computers, ignoring whatever conversation Nate and Sophie were having.

Eliot came over and pulled a foil wrapped object out of a paper bag. "Here."

"You seriously brought me another sandwich?" Hardison looked up.

"You didn't finish the last one I made you." Eliot pulled out one for himself and settled in next to Hardison.

He could have said a million things, made a million jokes – normally Hardison had to steal Eliot's gourmet surprises if he wanted one for himself. Instead he unwrapped the sandwich and ate it. Cooking was how Eliot offered comfort, and Hardison figured he didn't have to be a shit about accepting it.

"We're going to have to get in there and get a look at that box." Nate still looked thoughtful – always dangerous.

Hardison shivered when he thought about the video – watching Parker step over the smoking bodies and remove something from the stone box. His Parker would never be so cold during a job. The one thing made absolutely clear was that this wasn't Parker – when she looked up at the video camera her eyes turned black and she grinned, like she was taunting him.

"Let me see if it's logged digitally." Hardison started to pull up documents on the case. He blinked at the dossier he found attached. "Hang on a second. They arrested someone at the museum for impersonating a fed…holy shit."

"Hardison?" Sophie came and looked over his shoulder.

He pointed to the mug shot that came up on screen. "That dude – he's one of the demon hunters that came up while I was searching." Hardison had spent a lot of time hanging out in some shady websites. After a while he was able to piece together what was real from fiction – the irony of realizing demonic possession now counted as 'fact' wasn't lost on him. "Sam Winchester. He's got a brother – Dean. They got a rep online." Not necessarily a good rep. The monsters got killed, but not always without casualties.

One of Hardison's greatest fears was that a hunter would get to Parker first and hurt her before getting the demon out. It had been all he could think about as he desperately searched. Now they were so close to finding her - and so were the hunters.

"Only one of them was arrested?" Nate frowned. "They might be after Parker. Change of plans. Hardison, you and Eliot find this Dean Winchester. Sophie and I will infiltrate the FBI building." He nodded at her. "Let's go steal a demon hunter."

***

Sam was trying to decide if the blonde FBI agent was real or a hallucination. He dug his thumb into his palm until it turned white and he still wasn't sure.

Everything about this was weird. He'd expected to be taken to a local detention center, not carted up into the heart of the FBI building itself. Who knew they had their own interrogation rooms? When Henrickson had arrested him and Dean – and was that years ago now? – he'd had them put in the local jail.

They apparently did things differently here in New York.

The woman sat across from him, holding a plain manila folder, which she tapped against the table. "I'm Agent Olivia Dunham." She looked over at the mirror along the one wall and Sam wondered who was out there watching. "And according to your fingerprints, you are Sam Winchester."

Sam held himself stiffly. He couldn't deny it, not when they had his prints. So he just kept silent.

Dunham flipped through the folder. "But Sam Winchester has been reported dead a dozen times over. Clearly you cannot be Sam Winchester."

He blinked at her, not sure what she wanted him to say. Sam very well couldn't explain that sure, he'd been dead, but he'd gotten better.

She leaned forward and lowered her voice, as if they were the only two people in the room and there weren't a bunch of FBI agents outside listening to every word. "You're a shapeshifter, aren't you?"

That was the last thing Sam expected her to say. Was she a hunter? "I'm not. You can test me with silver if you want." He held out his wrist and pulled up his sleeve.

Her eyes narrowed. "Silver?"

"If you don't know that much you must not be a very good hunter."

Dunham pulled a pen out of her pocket. "Tell me everything you know about shapeshifters."

Either she had experience with the supernatural herself, or the agent was humoring him long enough to get enough info to throw Sam into the looney bin. He sat back and sighed. Might as well keep himself occupied while he waited for Dean to solve the case and then come bust Sam out.

"All right. Let's start with a case out in St. Louis. I believe you should have it in your files. It's the first time Dean officially died." Sam smiled. This was going to be fun.

***

Neal walked into the lobby of the FBI building, deftly balancing the cardboard tray full of coffee with one hand. He'd volunteered for the coffee run – the stuff in the office was truly awful – and Peter had jumped at the chance, probably to get Neal out of the way while they interrogated Winchester.

Apparently Peter hadn’t noticed Sam Winchester signaling his brother while being cuffed. There were good odds that the other Winchester was still hanging around, waiting for his chance to do whatever they had planned. Neal hadn’t caught sight of him outside the building, although he did see a van that looked a little suspicious. 

He stopped at security to chat with Emma, the guard on duty. It was always a good idea to keep on good terms with security, just in case. He handed her the coffee he’d offered to get – with Peter's credit card – and grinned. Movement out of the corner of his eye got his attention, and he spotted a dark haired woman waiting for the elevator.

"It's can't be," he murmured. "Have a good afternoon, Emma!" Neal waved and trotted to the elevators just in time to get on the car behind the woman.

She turned and the smile on her face fell as she caught sight of him.

Neal hit the button to close the doors before anyone else got on. "Now what, I wonder, is Sophie Devereaux doing in the FBI building?"

"I could ask the same of Neal Caffrey." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the railing. "Last I'd heard you were in jail."

He winced. "Your information is slightly out of date." Neal lifted his pant leg to show off the FBI tracker attached to his ankle. "I work here."

Sophie chuckled. "Seriously?"

He was slightly offended. "They value my expertise."

She looked good, dressed in a black minidress with her dark hair swept up into a hastily tied knot. The last time Neal had seen her had been in Paris, how many years ago now? They'd been after the same painting, but ultimately, he'd discovered the original had already been replaced with a forgery, long before either of them had gotten there.

"Of course." She hit the button for the 20th floor and stepped back.

Neal gave her a look. "You honestly expect me to believe you're heading to HR?"

"I don't know. Apparently they're hiring off the street now."

He leaned over and hit the stop button. "Tell me why you're really here or I'll tell my partner there's a famous art thief loose in the building."

She tilted her head away from him and muttered something into her hand. It sounded like "I've got a complication."

"Are you wired?" Just how deep was this operation? How many others did she have spread out through the building? Neal grabbed his cell phone, just in case he was going to have to make a quick call.

Sophie glared at him. Neal could see the gears whirling behind her eyes. He knew she was trying to figure out a way to con him, but both of them knew better. You can't con a con man.

"Sophie, are you in trouble?" They hadn't parted on bad terms, really. As far as Neal was concerned it was just a friendly rivalry, and not the kind of game he played with Matthew Keller.

She sagged a little bit. "Not me, a friend of mine."

"Anyone I know?" The circle of high-class grifters wasn't terribly large.

"I doubt it. Parker didn't make a lot of friends." Sophie's eyes filled and she turned away.

The name sounded familiar and when it clicked, Neal gasped. "I thought she was just a legend. You know, the kind of stories thieves tell when they want to boast about their haul." Neal had heard his share of Parker stories in prison. The most outrageous one was that she'd stolen the Hope Diamond, but put it back because she was bored. It hadn't been challenging enough.

"No, she's a real as I am."

"Look, I can talk to Peter, maybe he can cut her a deal."

Sophie laughed again and it was brittle. "I wish she'd just been arrested! That would be something we could handle."

"I'm not following."

She rubbed her forehead, and then, seeming to have made a decision she turned on him with earnest dark eyes. "Parker is in trouble, but we can't help her if we can't find her. She took something from a museum earlier today and I need to see the box that held it, which is in the FBI's evidence lockup."

Parker was the woman in the surveillance videos Peter had pulled up – the same video that the fake Smith agents were viewing. Neal knew there was more to it than a simple smash and grab. He might be able to use Sophie to find out the real story. "You think this will help you find her?"

"It's the only lead we've got."

Neal pushed the start button and then hit the number for the evidence department. "We've got until the elevator gets there to come up with a plan. Simple distract and grab?"

"Oh, there won't be anything simple about it."

***

"Not another word!"

The door to the interrogation room slammed open and an odd man strode in. Sam rubbed his eyes and pushed on his palm again. But when Dunham stood and faced him, Sam knew at least that he wasn't hallucinating.

"Excuse me? Who are you?"

The man held out a business card. "Jimmy Papadokalis. I'm representing this young man, here."

"You're a lawyer." She took the card. "When did he have time to call a lawyer?"

At first Sam wasn't sure to go with it or not. There was a slim chance this guy was sent by Dean in an attempt to help him escape. He'd have to play along long enough to find out.

"I'm on retainer." Papadokalis plopped a briefcase on the table and opened it up to fiddle with tons of paper. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for. "This isn't the first time my client has been held for mistaken identity. I'd like him released as soon as possible and perhaps we'll consider not suing the federal government."

"Your client's fingerprints match those of a known serial killer." Dunham crossed her arms and glared daggers at the lawyer.

"Alleged serial killer." Papadokalis pulled out a folder and flipped through it. "Who has been declared dead. Clearly my client is not dead, so he cannot be your serial killer. Ergo, I expect a release shortly."

She threw up her hands. "Your client is still guilty of impersonating an FBI agent."

"Allegedly. Now if you'll give me a moment with him?" Papadokalis stared pointedly at her.

Dunham stormed out of the interrogation room. Sam whistled. She looked pissed. "So, who are you, really?" He leaned forward.

Papadokalis took the empty seat. "Jimmy Papadokalis. Your attorney." His eyes flicked over to the corner of the room and then back at Sam.

Right. Cameras. They were being watched by the feds. "Gotcha. Did my brother hire you?"

The man slid over the manila folder. "I think we can help each other, Mr. … Smith."

Sam opened the folder just enough to read the contents, keeping the cover facing the cameras so they couldn't see what he was looking at. In hastily written blue ink he saw the words: "need help with an exorcism."

He closed the folder and pushed it back to the lawyer. "I think that can be arranged, Mr. Papa…Papadok…"

"Papadokalis." The man winked at him. "Now just sit back and let me handle this."

***

The FBI had a whole warehouse to keep the ill-gotten loot of those unlucky enough to have their stash spoiled. Neal was allegedly not one of those unlucky souls, but he kept mum on the topic, along with the possible location of a missing Raphael. The thought of his treasures in that warehouse hurt his soul.

But the box Sophie wanted wasn't there, not yet. Neal knew the procedure because of his work with Peter. Everything came through the evidence division to be cataloged and input into the database before being stored somewhere. The box was part of a very fresh case and wouldn't be off to storage any time soon. They should be able to lift it without too much trouble.

Neal dumped the tray of coffees on the fifth floor, behind the large potted plant in the elevator bay there. Then he got back in the elevator. Sophie would already be there, providing the distraction.

He looked up at the cameras in the corner. Could her friend really take them out? And do it without anyone noticing? The entire plan depended on that.

The doors slid open and Neal strode onto the floor. He'd timed the arrival just perfectly. Sophie was making a scene, and Evans, the clerk on duty, was trying to calm her down.

"Hey, Evans, can I just grab that mortgage paperwork Peter wanted?" Neal gestured with his head toward the vault. Peter had asked him to get that evidence, but it had been before they'd caught the case at the museum. Hopefully Evans would be too distracted to remember that.

Evans waved him away impatiently as Sophie started to sob, with real tears and everything. Neal hid his smile.

He took a left instead of a right, and made for the intake desk. The box had been marked as received, but it hadn't been filed yet. Neal scooped it up – evidence plastic baggie and all – and tucked it underneath his jacket. Then he went back and picked up the mortgage paperwork, remembering to sign and initial the appropriate form. He waved at Evans before slipping back into the lobby.

Sophie joined him in the elevator a second later. She pulled her hair back and grinned at him. "Like riding a bike, isn't it?"

He couldn’t very well tell her he hadn't quite gotten off the bike. Instead Neal flashed her a smile and patted his jacket. "It's smaller than I remembered." But it still felt odd. He didn't like having it so close to his body, it make his flesh tingle. "Are the cameras still out?"

"The footage is being repeated." She looked at her watch, then leaned to the side again, which she usually did when talking to whoever was on the other side of her earpiece. "Hurry up, Nate. We're leaving now." She paused. "That complication I met earlier."

"Talking about me?" Neal tugged his jacket closer. He wasn't about to give this box up any time soon, not until he found out what exactly was going on.

She gave him an assessing look. "Are you coming with?"

He kicked out his one leg to show the tracker. "Can you deal with this?"

"Perhaps."

"The same friend who fixed the cameras?"

"Well, he's not a miracle worker." The door dinged and she strode out.

Neal waited a beat and followed, ducking behind a group of people in the lobby so the security guard wouldn't notice him leaving again. Sophie beat him to the street where a cab pulled up to the curb. He jogged to catch up with her.

The driver was an older man with shaggy dark hair and a pensive face. More astonishing was the guy in the front passenger seat – the man who was supposed to be in the interrogation room right now. This was getting increasingly complicated. Good.

"He followed me home, can we keep him?" Sophie threw an arm about him.

Neal immediately checked to make sure he still had the box. He wouldn't put it past her to lift the damn thing and take off.

"Interesting complication." The driver narrowed his eyes. "We're down a thief, if you're willing to work for cheap."

Neal crouched down for a better view into the cab. The other guy looked nervous, but didn't say a word. "I've got a GPS tracker with a two mile radius. If you can take care of that, then I'd be more than happy to help."

"Hardison, we're going to need you to take a look at this." The man tilted his head and did that same side-talking that Sophie had been doing. Then he turned back to Neal and held out his hand. "I'm Nate Ford."

"Neal Caffrey." Neal shook it and gave his best smile.

"Hmm." Perhaps Nate had heard of him. "You got a place we can hole up until Hardison fixes your tracker?"

"Oh, I might." Neal followed Sophie into the back seat of the cab. He gave directions to June's, while slipping out his phone and sending Peter a quick text.

Don't worry. Managed to infiltrate group that helped your guy escape. Taking them to June's.

BTW, your coffee is on the fifth floor lobby behind the hibiscus.

***

Olivia stormed out of the interrogation room and went searching for Special Agent Burke. She found him in a conference with two of his agents, and at her sudden appearance, they scattered.

"Agent Dunham?"

"Agent Burke." Olivia gestured toward the direction she'd just come from. "When did Winchester have time to call a lawyer?"

Burke straightened. "What? He didn't even request a lawyer. We wouldn't have started the questioning if he had."

"Then who the hell is that man in the interrogation room?" Olivia's phone buzzed, and she turned away to take the call when she saw it was Astrid. Burke strode over to investigate.

"Hey, Astrid. Did you make it back to Boston okay?"

"Yes, Olivia. Walter is looking at the bodies now." She lowered her voice and Olivia barely caught the next words. "He's working with Peter Bishop."

Olivia blinked. "Willingly?" It hadn't been very long since Walter had determined to have nothing to do with the man who claimed to be his son from another timeline. The fact they were working together now might be a good thing.

"I think so." Astrid's voice resumed its normal level. "He thinks the eyes were burned out from the inside."

"How is that possible? Some kind of projectile weapon?" Olivia needed to know if she should be wearing protective headgear.

"No theories yet, but I'll call you back if we get somewhere."

"Thanks, Astrid." Olivia ended the call and turned to see Burke storming in her direction.

"He's gone."

"Gone?"

Burke gestured behind him. “That lawyer somehow managed to convince these new transfers that we were holding Winchester illegally and they let him go. Taggart, McSweeten you are both getting your asses shipped back to Boston!” The last bit hit a much higher decibel. A vein started to throb in his forehead and Olivia felt a bit of sympathy.

"Why help him escape? Sam Winchester is clearly insane, or at the very least, unstable." She had pages of notes to prove it. Winchester's tales of supernatural shapeshifters didn't match anything she knew about the technological construct from the other universe.

"That's what we're going to find out." Burke stilled and pulled his chirping phone out of his pocket. He stared at the screen for a moment before finally murmuring, "Damn it, Neal."

"Your CI?" Where had Caffrey gone? It shouldn't have taken that long to get coffee.

"He's with Winchester." Burke frowned. "Okay, gather round everyone. We're going to let Neal play this one out, but before then I want everything you've got on Winchester and how the hell it's linked to our museum theft."

The agents all scattered, leaving Olivia and Burke. They stared at each other for a moment before Olivia said, "I'm very good at sorting through old files."

"Good, we're going to need all the hands we can get."


	4. Chapter 3

Hardison winced as the van hit another bump. He could barely concentrate as it was, never mind Eliot's driving. "I think you missed a pot hole. You might want to turn around and go back for it."

"Do you want to drive and let me work your fancy machines? Control alt delete, that's all I need to know, right?"

In a way it was a relief for Eliot to be acting like himself again. Hardison couldn't take any more sandwiches and heart-to-heart talks.

"Hardison, Eliot, where are you?" Nate's voice cut through before Hardison could reply with something snippy in return.

Hardison stiffened, wondering if Nate was going to have him hack back into the FBI building's security. It was taking him away from his search for Dean Winchester. Right now he had the toll booth records up and he was scanning for any mention of a '67 Impala.

Eliot answered. "We're outside the museum. I thought the other Winchester might return to the scene of the crime."

"Don't worry about him. We broke the other brother out of the FBI."

"Of course you did." Hardison closed his toll booth program and hit the FBI system again. There were pretty good odds he was going to have to clean up.

"We also found a place to hole up. Meet us here ASAP." Nate gave an address that had Hardison's eyebrows crawling up his forehead. That was a pretty darn swanky neighborhood.

He winced as Eliot turned the van around in the middle of the street. "Go easy on Lucille II, will you?"

Eliot pulled out his earpiece and turned to look at Hardison. "Look, man, I know this is hard on you…"

"Oh no, not again. We did the male bonding thing already." He kept his eyes on the screen and did not look at Eliot.

"This is a job, Hardison. It's probably the most important job we'll ever do. But if you don't keep your mind in the game, you could lose her, man."

"I know." He reached for his bottle of Mountain Dew and took a long swig. Time to get serious.

***

Sam rubbed his eyes once again, but the gorgeous view of New York City didn't waver at all. He'd gone from an FBI interrogation room to this swanky penthouse guest suite on the upper east side. And it seemed like it wasn't a hallucination.

He looked over his shoulder, but the others were still talking on the other side of the glass door. They had given him privacy to make this call.

Sam hit Dean's number on the speed dial and waited for his brother to pick up.

"You sure you want to waste your one phone call on me?" Dean sounded relieved despite his words.

Even though Sam had been the one to tell Dean to leave him behind, it was still so soothing to talk to his big brother. Sometimes the little boy Sam had been, who looked up to Dean and trusted Dean to take care of him, still showed up, especially lately, when Sam wasn't sure of anything.

"Seriously, Sam, is it a good idea for you to be calling me?"

"It's okay, Dean, I'm not at the FBI anymore. I got broken out." Sam looked over at his rescuers. Papadokalis – Nate, he said he name was – hadn't explained exactly why they needed Sam, other than to perform an exorcism, but he did ask for Sam to contact his brother. They knew way too much about Sam and Dean for his piece of mind.

"What?"

"It's complicated. Where are you?"

"I'm at Columbia University. Just finished talking to a professor who speaks Enochian for breakfast."

"That doesn't even make any sense." Sam rolled his eyes, but it was wasted on Dean not being there to see it.

"I needed someone to double check my translation. You told me to work the job and I did." There was a bit of defensiveness in Dean's voice.

"I know. I'm glad." Sam cleared his throat. "I need you to get here, as soon as you can. I promised these people I'd help them."

"Help them with what?"

"An exorcism. Their friend is possessed and I think she's the one who stole what was in the box in the first place."

"Sammy, don't make any promises."

"Do you know what was in the box, Dean?"

"I've got a good idea. Angelic artifact – maybe even one of those weapons Cas was hoarding a while back. It was apparently sealed with angelic grace."

Of course. "That explains the victims missing their eyeballs."

"Just saying, Sam, gotta be careful with this one."

It had been a long time since they had to deal with angels and demons. Sam wasn't sure he liked the idea. "Do you think the weapon's powerful enough to take out a Leviathan?"

"Let's worry about finding it first. Last thing we need is a demon going around with some angel weapon. Where are you?"

Sam gave him the address. "Tell the maid that you're here to see Neal. She'll let you right up."

There was silence down the line for a moment. Then Dean sighed. "This is going to be one hell of a story, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

***

Olivia frowned at the stacks of file boxes that surrounded her, like Burke's agents were building some kind of monument to Stonehenge. She'd been sorting through the files on the Winchesters, although she had a sinking suspicion Burke was keeping her off the more pertinent information on the museum heist. She had a hunch that unlocking the Winchester's interest in the museum would blow the whole case wide open.

Olivia didn't believe in the supernatural, but she'd seen plenty of weird in the last few years that others might take for science fiction. What Sam Winchester knew to be shape shifters might have a simple logical explanation. It had taken her hours of going through the files, but Olivia no longer thought he was entirely insane.

Burke knocked on the door. "Find anything?"

Olivia pulled off her glasses. "That depends on what you mean by anything. Did you know Agent Hendrickson?"

"The case agent on the Winchesters? Not personally, no. Why?" Burke walked inside the borrowed office they'd given her to sort through the paperwork.

"Because he vacillates between outright hatred and admiration, sometimes in the same report. One thing I've noticed – and I think he missed it because he already had his own ideas about the brothers before he started – was that the Winchesters always showed up after the killings started." She picked up a file – the St. Louis case that Sam had brought up.

"So either they were such good serial killers that they could kill from a distance…" Burke took the file.

"Or they showed up because of the deaths," Olivia finished for him.

"You think we're looking at a pair of vigilantes here?" He frowned. "Might explain what they were doing at the museum."

"That means there will be more deaths." Olivia needed to contact Walter and see if he'd learned anything else from the bodies. There might be a clue there.

"There's something else. I ID'd the blond woman in the security footage – she's a known thief who's wanted in nine countries. But…" Burke frowned and he did not look happy. "This isn't her MO at all. Thieves don't change like this."

Maybe because she only looked like the thief in Burke’s files. The Winchesters clearly had some reason to think the woman had been a shape shifter. Olivia eyed Burke, trying to decide whether he'd be open to the possibility. She didn't know him well enough yet.

Instead, she asked about Neal. "Any word from your CI?"

Burke growled. "Not yet. I'm giving him another hour, but then all bets are off."

***

Dean whistled when he caught sight of the house on the corner. He wondered how the hell Sammy had gotten himself holed up in there. It was nothing like the places where they typically squatted when they couldn't scrape enough together to afford a motel. This was a freaking mansion in the middle of New York City. Whoever owned that had to be crazy loaded.

He was supposed to just knock and talk to the maid – the maid! – but Dean wanted to get the lay of the land before he did that. First he walked down the street as if on the way to somewhere else. It was on his second pass across the sidewalk that he noticed the two figures standing outside the building. One was a tall, skinny black guy, who was arguing with a short pretty boy with long dark hair.

Dean ducked into the entranceway of the building across the street. There was something shady about those guys. His instincts were pinging him to watch out. He'd just keep an eye on them for a minute or two and see what they were up to.

He slid out his cell phone to call Sam and give him a head's up. In the time it took for him to look down and hit the speed dial and then back at the house, one of the guys had disappeared.

"Well, shit."

"You watching us for a reason, pretty boy?" – and that dude snuck up on Dean way faster than he'd imagined.

"Calling the kettle black, ain't ya?" Dean ducked just in time to avoid the right hook. The little bugger was quick. He came up with his own left jab, which was just as rapidly blocked.

They tussled like that for a few minutes, neither of them getting the upper hand, though Dean had a split lip to match the shiner from the one punch he'd managed to land on shorty.

"Eliot, are you batshit?" The other dude showed up and all but eeped when Dean swiped his legs out from under him. It had been a while since he'd fought two on one, and honestly Dean had expected more of a challenge.

Unfortunately that move left him vulnerable to the tiny one, who grabbed Dean from behind and locked his arms behind his back.

The guy on the ground sat up and rubbed the back of his head. "Dude, you both are crazy."

"This guy is going to tell us why he was watching us." The little one growled like he was trying out for the role of Batman. Dean could tell him he was overcompensating.

"Maybe cause he's the other Winchester? Did you even look at the wanted posters I pulled up?"

Dean stiffened. "Who the hell are you?"

"Look, man, we'll explain everything once we get inside. Eliot, can you let him go?"

Eliot released Dean with a little push that had him stumbling. Little bastard did that on purpose. Dean whirled on him – never keep a threat to your back. "Inside? Are you the guys who busted Sammy out?"

"Yeah, that was us." The other guy cocked his head. "Sammy? Really?"

Dean took a page out of Eliot's book and growled at the guy.

"Inside. Let's get this settled." Eliot strode across the street, heedless of the oncoming traffic. Dude had a brass pair.

Dean helped the other one stand up. If he had helped break Sammy out, then Dean could at least be civil.

***

Neal watched the group separate into two with the arrival of the other Winchester brother. Dean had grabbed Sam and took him out onto the rooftop to have a little talk. He probably hadn't counted on Neal's ability to read lips.

He found it amusing that the first thing Dean did was pat Sam down, checking to see what damage the FBI had left behind. Sam just rolled his eyes and pushed his older brother away – because yes, it was so obvious who the little brother was here - despite Sam’s size. That certainly conflicted with the version of them depicted in the FBI files.

In the corner, Nate Ford had gathered his people together. Sophie kept shooting Neal worried looks, but he just raised his glass of wine in her direction. June had offered to have dinner sent up for all of them, and he might just take her up on the offer. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be resolved any time soon.

Dean burst back into the loft, all bluster and narrowed eyes. "All right, what the hell is this about?" He did a double-take in Neal's direction. "And isn't this the joker who got Sam arrested in the first place?"

"About that…" Neal pushed himself up out of the couch and went to join the conversation. "You could say I'm working for the FBI out of duress." He lifted up his pants leg and showed off the anklet. "Neal Caffrey."

"So does that mean the FBI knows where you – and we – are?" Dean met Sam's eyes and they did that same mental communication thing Neal observed outside the museum. He knew if he so much as twitched, Dean and Sam would be out the door.

"Considering I live here normally, I don't think my tracking pattern will get you in any more trouble than you already are. Care for some wine?" Neal ignored the sputtering and went over to the fridge.

"And I can take care of the GPS on that, no problem." One of Nate's team piped up.

"And you are?" Dean still sounded grumpy. He should get that checked out.

"He's Hardison." Nate stepped forward. "He's our computer guy."

Hardison coughed and muttered under his breath. "Hacker. Dude makes me sound like some IT helpdesk loser."

Neal pulled out the sixpack of beer he kept for when Peter visited and offered it to his guests. Dean was the only one to accept, taking it from Neal and then moving back into his brother's orbit. The two brothers occupied each other's space like an old married couple. It reminded Neal of Peter and Elizabeth and he bit his cheek to keep from smiling at the image.

Nate continued with the introductions. "That's Sophie…"

"Resident grifter." She smiled and held out her hand. Sam reached out to shake it, looking slightly surprised as he did so.

"And you've apparently already met Eliot."

Dean and Eliot glared at each other. Oh, one of those macho type things if the bruises on their faces were anything to go by. Neal decided he'd stay out of their way.

Nate got between the two of them, breaking the eye contact. Smart, about what Neal would expect from the man who styled himself the mastermind of the group.

"We specialize in helping people," Nate went on after introducing himself. "People who've been screwed by the system and can't get justice any other way."

"And you use less than legal means yourself to do it." Neal leaned against the counter, his glass of wine still in one hand, though he hadn't drank any of it since before Dean Winchester walked in.

Nate opened his mouth to say something, but Sophie stilled him with a hand on his arm. "I don't think that's a judgment, Nate, just an observation."

While they were talking, Hardison had set up a laptop on Neal's table. He booted it up and turned the screen around to face them. "While all these introductions are good and all, I want to get down to business." He touched a button and a slide show popped up, showing the blond woman from the museum's security footage.

"That's Parker. Member of our team until five days ago when she took off." Hardison's jaw worked. He was clearly holding back some emotion. Maybe she was his girlfriend? "Before she did I saw her eyes turn black."

"Son of a bitch." Dean took a long draught of his beer and wiped his lips with his sleeve. Neal winced.

Sam made a face at Dean. "I'm assuming, since you broke me out and had me contact Dean, that you know what that means?"

Neal raised his hand. "I don't."

"Why is he even here?" Eliot growled.

"It's my apartment."

Hardison ignored them both. "I know it means she's been possessed by a demon. We've been trying to find her, and then I managed to get a hit on the security footage uploaded by the FBI. Then we noticed you guys were nearby. You hunt these things, right?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks again. Neal wished he could read whatever took seconds to pass between them. It would be a very handy ability to have. Neither of them looked surprised at the mention of demons.

"Wait a minute. Demonic possession as in The Exorcist?" This was getting a little more insane than Neal had originally thought. "And what does that have to do with the museum heist?"

Dean shrugged. "I'll give you the short answer, ankle-boy. Yeah, demons exist. So do ghosts, vampires, chupacabras and a whole other mess of things you don't even want to think about. And Sam and I kill them."

"I didn't know I was getting on a bus to crazy town when I offered you my place."

Dean whirled on him. "Fine don't believe us. Ignore the evidence of the glowy light that killed everyone in the museum. You got a logical explanation for that?"

"Dean." Sam's voice cut through the rant and Dean dropped into a seat, gripping his beer so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"All right. Obviously all of you believe in demons," Neal gestured with his wine glass. He wondered how the hell he was going to explain this to Peter. "And that your friend's been possessed." Sure, let's roll with that. "Why did a demon need to rob a museum?"

"She wanted whatever was in that box." Sam hugged his arms around his chest in a futile attempt to make himself look smaller. "From the little of the tape we saw, it was obvious she couldn't touch it herself. That's why she needed the humans."

"And I know why she couldn't touch it." Dean pulled a sheet of crumpled paper out of his jacket pocket. "I was able to get some of the inscription translated from the photos we took at the crime scene. It's some kind of…" he trailed off, glancing up at Neal. Then, with a little sigh, he went on. "Angelic artifact."

"Angels exist too?" Neal couldn't help himself.

"Unfortunately most of them are dicks." Dean cleared his throat and looked away. "Anyway, I don't have the whole thing done…"

"Would having the box help?" Sophie pulled the artifact from where Neal had stashed it in the cubby hidden by the fireplace.

Dean's jaw dropped. "You people are freaky, you know that?"

"Says the man who hunts demons." Hardison stood up and got between Sophie and Dean. "Before you even go near that, I gotta clear the air. We want to save Parker. You guys don’t have the best track record."

"Man, you have no goddamn idea what we do."

Sam cut him off. "We'll do what we can. But demons can be pretty harsh on their hosts, long before we even get there."

"But there is a way to help her, isn't there?" Nate cut in. "You can get the demon out?"

"The rituale romanum is one of the exorcisms that work. It's getting the demon to sit still that's the problem." Dean gave Sam another look. "We can't make any promises. There's still the matter of finding her."

Sophie put the box on the table. "Well then, we have to figure out what the demon wants, right? There's got to be a clue here."

"Can you complete the translation? And can I see what you have?" Nate held out his hand for the paper. "Maybe all the time in seminary might be good for something."

"Be my guest, man." Dean handed it over.

Neal needed an excuse to get a message Peter. But now that he thought about it, there was actually an angle in this situation that he could exploit. Parker was a thief and that was something Neal knew a lot about – never mind this demon stuff. And wouldn't Peter flip his shit when he heard that.

"I'm going to check with some of my contacts, see if she tried to fence whatever was in the box." Neal jerked his head toward the balcony and slipped out. He dialed Peter while keeping an ear open to hear if anyone followed him.

"Neal!"

Why would he expect anything other than Peter barking down the line? "Peter. We have to talk."

***

Olivia looked up when Burke answered his phone. She winced in sympathy at the sharpness of his voice. That didn't mean she wasn't happy about not having to work hard at listening in.

"What do you mean things are more complicated?" Burke turned away and covered one ear.

"Demonic possession, seriously?" There was a pause, and then Burke lowered his voice. "You're not in danger, are you? I'm just saying…this sounds more than a little insane…Give me one good reason I shouldn't take a team in there and arrest all of them?"

Olivia frowned. There was something in one of the files she'd sorted through on the Winchesters. She pulled it out to show Burke, though she remembered the witness testimony exactly – one of the perks of her memory.

Burke was still talking. "Makes sense she'd go to ground nearby. I'll check with NYPD, see if there are any suspicious thefts around the area. You stay out of trouble."

He stabbed at his phone with a vicious finger before turning back to face Olivia. "You were right about the vigilante thing. Apparently they're trying to solve the museum case. Just not in a way that makes any kind of logical sense."

"I heard." She tapped the manila folder she'd dug up. "I think you need to read this. It's the testimony of a witness who says that Sam and Dean Winchester exorcised a demon from her."

Burke snatched up the folder. "Apparently they're very convincing. So much so that they've got a gang of thieves and con men along for the ride."

"What if there's more to it than that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure yet. There's still the matter of the bodies with their eyes burned out. What kind of a weapon would do that?"

Burke shut the folder. "You're not saying you really think demons are involved?"

"I'm saying maybe we don't have all the data yet." In her last call to Walter, he was unable to find any residue from a known weapon. That meant they had to consider unknown weapons. While she was still skeptical of the idea of demons, Olivia had witnessed herself the existence of people with special abilities. They might be dealing with something like that here. "How good is your security clearance?"

"Do I want to know?"

"I'm going to need you to sign a waiver."


	5. Chapter 4

Sam pulled Dean aside when Neal went out to make his call, leaving Nate and his crew to look over the box. He was relieved to see Dean. It helped knowing this entire thing wasn't a hallucination.

"Do you find anything about this weird?" He murmured so the others couldn't hear him.

Dean blinked and looked around. "Uh, you mean besides the fact that we're holed up with a stooge for the FBI and some weirdos who think they're the mod squad?"

"Other than that, yeah." Sam double checked that they weren't being overheard. "Remember what Crowley said? About calling the demons off of us so we can take care of Dick?"

Dean's face went blank. Sam knew this was a sore subject, but he had to bring it up. "You think Crowley's got something to do with this? Maybe whatever was in the box actually can hurt the Leviathans?"

"There's only one way to find out. Ask him."

"You want to summon Crowley? Here?" Dean made a gesture that encompassed the rest of the room.

Sam only shrugged in response. It was the best idea he had at the moment.

"Well, it might convince Sinatra over there that demons actually exist." Dean seemed caught on the idea.

"Seriously, what's with the hat?" Sam shook his head. "You got the stuff?"

Dean went for the duffle bag he'd brought in from the car. "Never leave home without it."

They were just starting to move the furniture when Neal came back in from outside.

"What's going on?"

"We're going to summon a demon." Sam rummaged through Dean's bag looking for the chalk. Otherwise he was going to have to use paint on these lovely floors and he really would rather not. 

Neal rubbed his forehead and mumbled something that sounded like "I think I know how Peter feels…." Then he squared his shoulders and faced them. "Okay, so what does this involve? Do I need to go find a goat?"

"You think you're funny." Dean straightened.

Oh man, Sam needed to nip this in the bud. Dean never liked it when someone else was the cut up in the room. Sam stood between them. "No animal sacrifice. Just some drops of our blood will do."

"Before we do anything drastic," Nate came over to say. "Just why are you summoning a demon?"

Sam exchanged a quick look with Dean. There were some things that took too long to explain – such as their long involved history with Crowley. Maybe he could gloss over it a bit. "This is a demon we've dealt with in the past. He might be able to tell us something about the box."

"Just hold the phone." Hardison left his laptop to join the conversation. "Are you saying you got a demon on tap whenever you gotta question?"

Sam winced. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"Yeah. It's not like we're best buds." Dean turned on the faucet of the sink. "And the only way he's going to tell us anything is with a little persuasion."

"He means torture." Sam gestured to the jugs Dean was filling with water. "Demons can't stand holy water."

Hardison shook his head. "I don't get why you can't just summon the demon in Parker and get it the hell out of her."

"We can only summon Crowley because we know his name." Sam reached out and then let his hand drop back down to his side. He'd gotten out of the habit of giving comfort and he doubted Hardison wanted any from Sam.

Hardison went back to his computer, muttering under his breath.

Neal had gone over to Dean. "Are you blessing that water? Don't you have to be a priest for that?"

Dean grinned at him. "Nope. Wanna learn how?"

"Sure."

Sam rolled his eyes. He guessed Neal was only humoring them, but honestly, trust Dean to bond with someone over demon killing supplies. Time to chalk the protections onto the floor.

***

Hardison kept to his laptop while everyone else helped the brothers set up for their little demon summoning ritual. He was still running programs to locate Parker, but he really wanted to double check the forums and see if the Winchesters were legit. If he was going to put Parker's life in their hands, Hardison wanted to be sure.

"It'll be alright, Hardison. We'll find her." Sophie sat next to him and patted his arm.

He stiffened – he'd learned to watch out for Sophie and her hand-patting brainwashing. "I got the pep talk from Eliot. Don't need it from you too."

"I'll be the judge of that. Come on. We've got a demon to summon and if we're not careful, Nate might try stealing it, too."

Okay, that got a smile out of him. Hardison set aside his laptop and went to watch the show. Sam was the one who did the summoning, slicing his palm into one of the bowls they'd grabbed from Neal's kitchen.

"I'll never use that bowl to mix omelets again," Neal muttered.

Dude probably still didn't believe. Hardison had seen Parker change before his very eyes. He couldn't not believe.

Sam started to chant, the words a mix of latin and something else. It made the hairs rise on the back of Hardison's neck. He could feel something swelling in the room, like a fog lifting from the floor only filled with darkness and evil instead of evaporated water.

There was a flash – later Hardison couldn't tell you if he blinked, because between one breath and another, there was a man – a demon – standing in the middle of the circle Sam had chalked onto the floor.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. You seriously didn't?" The demon sputtered.

Hardison couldn't do anything but gape. The demon was the spitting image of…

"Sterling?!" Nate exclaimed.

"Knew it. Fucking knew he had to be a monster," Eliot spat out. He punched his fist with one hand and looked ready to clock Sterling again.

"You know this joker?" Dean stalked the perimeter of the circle. He looked just as murderous as Eliot.

Hardison had a flash of the two of them working together, and he was really glad they were both on his side. For the moment.

Sterling made a face. "They know my meatsuit."

"You know, now that you mention it – don't I know you from somewhere?" Neal stared at Sterling, his face puzzled. Maybe he was trying to figure out how the Winchesters got the man to appear in this apartment. Pretty boy sure as hell didn't look like he was cowed by the demon standing right in front of him.

"He gets around." Sam moved to face the demon. "We know him as Crowley."

"Much fun as this whole reunion thing is," Crowley made a face in Nate's direction. "I do hope you boys have a reason for taking me away from my very important job being king of hell."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "You said you were keeping your demons off of us."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "As long as you keep chasing Dick. Don't tell me you've gone off Dick already?"

"Cut the crap, Crowley. We want to know what one of your demons was up to stealing angel artifacts from a museum." Dean had grabbed the box and waved it in Crowley's direction.

That was the first time Hardison had seen anything like fear go through Sterling's eyes. Crowley recoiled, throwing up an arm in front of his face. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"Left behind at the scene of the crime. You know what this is?" Dean opened the box and Crowly cried out and threw his arms over his face.

When nothing happened, he uncovered his eyes. "You've opened it already?"

"Not us. A demon." Dean and Sam exchanged quick looks.

"Not possible. One of those boxes is sealed with an angel's grace. It would burn the eyes out of my skull."

"That's what it did to four innocent human beings." Neal's voice was quiet from his corner of the room.

"Innocence is relative, as I'm sure you know, Neal Caffrey. Or should I call you by your real name?" Crowley trailed off, but the twisted grin was back on his face as Neal stepped forward, face red.

"You don't know that, you can't know that…"

Sophie butted in and caught Neal by the arm. "Easy. Demon, remember?"

"All right, everyone, just calm down." Dean shoved the box in Sam's direction. "What was in the box? Why would a demon want it?"

"For fuck's sake, haven't the two of you learned to do your own research? If it was a box sealed with angelic grace it held one of the most powerful of heaven's weapons."

"So a demon could bring back one of the plagues? Level a few cities, shit like that?"

Crowley shook his head. "You idiots. With the proper artifact there's a ritual that must be performed at midnight on St. Michael's feast day under the full moon."

"And what? Raise Lucifer again? Been there, done that." Dean was either crazy or insane. Hardison couldn't believe this was for real. This was the kind of stories his nana told him to scare him into going to church.

"No, you fool. To bind himself into the human body's he's taken. To become human again."

"Say what?" Hardison lurched forward. The world tilted, and he thought he was going to pass out. Oh, God, Parker.

Eliot got in front of him before Hardison could get close to Crowley. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he sure liked the idea of strangling the bastard.

"Where?" Dean barked. "What else does she need?"

"Look it up yourselves. I'm not your damn errand boy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have souls to torture."

Eliot grabbed one of the buckets Dean had filled with water. "One last thing."

Crowley screamed as Eliot doused him with holy water and steam rose from his clothes. Hardison had to admit that was nicely satisfying. The water splashed against the floor, erasing some of the chalk.

Before he could blink, Eliot was rising through the air and slammed up against the wall. Crowley had his hand held out like Darth Vader – not even moving from his position. "I don't have time for this." He disappeared between one breath and the next. Eliot slipped to the ground, coughing and clutching his throat.

"Don't care, that was worth it."

"Um, everyone?" Neal got their attention. "St. Michael's feast day is tomorrow."

Hardison looked at the darkening sky through the skylight. Sweat gathered along his back. They were running out of time.

"Well, then, we got work to do," Dean said.


	6. Chapter 5

Dean stretched, enjoying not having a back that had knotted up due to a typical motel mattress. These digs were far fancier than anything he and Sam had slept in before. After it had gotten too late to do any more work, Neal's landlady had offered them all guest rooms to get some sleep. She didn’t seem at all surprised by their presence, and she’d stared at Dean with far too much knowledge in her dark eyes.

The sun cut through the drapes, reminding him they had a lot to do today. Dean pulled the curtains aside and looked out, wondering if they were going to be able to save a woman's life. He paused, catching sight of something on the sill.

"Hey, Sammy, check it out." He ran his fingers over the protective sigils carved into the wood. "Hoodoo?"

Sam zipped up his duffel before coming over to look. He whistled. "Some pretty powerful stuff there."

"I know. Carved it myself."

Dean jumped at the sound of the voice coming from the open door. He and Sam turned to see Neal's landlady – June, the owner of this swanky mansion – standing there with an amused look on her face. "You a hunter?" No hunter he'd ever known had money of this kind.

She laughed and shook her head. "Let's just say I'm no fool, Dean Winchester. Now, come on, everyone's in the dining room for breakfast."

At least they had time to eat before chasing after their unknown demon.

***

Neal sipped his second cup of coffee for the day. He knew it wasn't going to be his last. They'd been up late last night, but Nate had sent them all to bed, saying none of them would be any good without sleep.

He didn't say how Neal was supposed to sleep now that he knew demons actually existed, and made a habit of possessing innocent humans.

When Crowley had first appeared in his apartment, Neal's mind had immediately come up with several ways they could have managed it. He was no stranger to the way attention could be diverted, just until the con was in place. But there was too much unexplained, too much that required prior planning that Sam and Dean just didn't have time for. Even so, he still wasn't convinced until Crowley's eyes went black after Eliot had doused him with holy water. And the way Eliot went flying across the room, rising a few feet as he slammed against the wall…

No, sometimes the only explanation was the obvious one. Demons were real.

He might have dozed off around midnight, but Neal had startled awake at dawn. Giving up on getting any more rest, he'd taken the opportunity to call Peter while the others were out of his apartment.

Peter answered with a raspy sounding 'hello.' Neal grinned. "Let me guess. You didn't get much sleep either."

"Neal, it's five am." Peter paused, and then said, "And I've been in the office most of the night."

Neal refrained from gloating. He was too shell shocked to enjoy it anyway. "Did you find out anything good?"

There was the sound of papers rustling. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? Isn't that what you're doing – infiltrating the group of thieves who might know something about my case?"

"Haven't had enough coffee today, huh?" Neal rubbed the bridge of his nose. That was true for him anyway. He needed to think. "We were given a time limit. We have until tonight to save this girl who's supposedly possessed by a demon. So the goal today is to find her."

"The same girl who's responsible for the theft in the museum and the four bodies?"

"Technically it's the demon who's responsible." Neal had forgotten about the deaths. "And it wasn't the demon who killed them anyway. It was the angelic grace sealed in the box."

Silence at the other end of the line. Then Peter sighed. "Before last night I would have chewed you out for drinking the kool-aide."

"What happened?"

"Your security clearance isn't high enough."

That made Neal wonder what exactly the US government was planning to do with demons. It was the kind of thing Mozzie would make up on one of his less sober days. Neal decided he wasn’t going to tell Mozzie about this little adventure for that very reason. "Well, fine if you want me to keep working this angle…"

"Keep Winchester and his friends where you can see them." Peter made a strangled noise, a familiar sound when he was frustrated. "Oh, something did turn up from the NYPD. A New Age shop near the museum was robbed at some point yesterday, although there's no surveillance video. That seems to fit in with whatever the hell is going on here."

Peter had ended the call after that, still grumbling.

With the intel in the back of his mind, he showed up at breakfast ready for whatever the Winchesters had planned. It wasn't easy to find a person in New York under normal circumstances, never mind someone possessed.

"That is a lot of food there." Dean's eyes lit up as he entered June's dining room.

"Well, then you'd better help us eat it." June had that amused look she got when dealing with someone she was smarter than. Neal was used to seeing it quite a bit. She took her seat at the head of the table and gestured for everyone to start.

Neal considered a third cup of coffee. He sat across from Nate and his crew, with Sam and Dean along his right. The somber mood had infected the table and at first, no one spoke.

Finally, Neal couldn't stand it anymore. "So what's the plan for today? We're going to hit the ground running, I'm assuming?"

"You know what they say about assumptions." Nate murmured. Neal caught sight of him slipping something a bit stronger into his coffee.

Sam ignored him. "We have to figure out what's involved in the ritual Crowley told us about. With luck there will be a specific location attached."

"But what if there ain't one?" Hardison stared Sam down from across the table.

"We're going to find her." Sam looked determined, though Neal didn't know how much of that was bravado. "We just need to do a little research first."

"Speaking of research," Neal took the opportunity to butt in. "There was a theft at a new age shop not too far from the museum. Think the demon might be stocking up on supplies?"

Dean gave him an odd look. "For a dude who just found out about the supernatural last night, you're doing pretty well."

"Thank you."

From the look he got in return, Neal's thanks probably wasn't the response Dean had been expecting.

"All right." Nate set down his coffee mug hard enough to draw all of their attention to him. "That's one lead to check out. What else?"

"I can chat with that professor again. He knew Enochian, maybe he has some clue." Dean shrugged.

"I'll go with you." Eliot growled. Neal wondered if Eliot ever spoke in anything but a threatening snarl.

"Are you going to shake down a college professor?"

"If I have to." Eliot returned.

Nate held up his hand and the two subsided. It was fascinating to watch. "Eliot and Dean – go shake down the professor. Sophie – you and Neal, check out the new age shop. Hardison, you're on the internet. There's got to be something about this online." He turned to Sam. "You and I will check out the New York Public Library."

Sam nodded. "That's actually a pretty good suggestion."

"Oh." Neal snapped his fingers. "I have a copy of their discard stamp. Use that and you should be able to walk right out of there with almost anything.”

"Dude, that's genius. I just used to rip out the security tags." Dean turned to him.

"So inelegant." Not to mention damaging to the books.

Hardison pulled out what looked like tiny hearing aids out of his pocket and put them on the table. "Here. We'll need to stay in touch. This little baby transmits and receives. There's GPS built in."

Neal picked one up, not exactly keen on having yet another tracker. "You'll take care of my radius, right?"

"Yeah, man, it's easy. I'll just spoof the tracking data."

"Stay in contact." Nate stood and that seemed to break up the meeting.

Neal turned to Sophie who grinned at him. It would make a nice change of pace to actually work together. "How's your FBI agent?" He asked her.

"Oh, delightful. Her name is Kerry and she has six cats…" Sophie tucked her arm around his.

As much as this situation sucked, Neal thought at least he was going to be able to have a little fun.

***

Olivia flipped through her notes one last time before falling into step with Agent Burke. The curator – David Wells – was meeting them back at the exhibit, which was still roped off and closed to the public. There was something in the stiffness in Burke's shoulders that had her pause before entering the museum.

"Everything all right?"

Burke made a face. "No. The box is missing from evidence."

He seemed more pissed off than worried, which brought Olivia to only one conclusion. "Your CI?"

"Most likely. He's still playing the demon hunter angle." Burke lowered his voice. "What do you really think is going on here?"

Olivia blew out a frustrated breath. "Right now I can't even begin to guess without more data. One possibility is that there was a weapon in that box, one that was set off by opening it. That's what our thief wanted to steal."

"An ancient weapon?" Burke couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice.

He hadn't seen the things she had, and despite some of the things she was able to share with him, Burke still had no idea of the existence of the ancient machine they'd put together to build the bridge between the two universes. "Let's see what the curator has to say." Olivia pushed the door open and went inside.

Wells was waiting for them in exhibit hall. "Ah, Agents, welcome back. Do you have any news to share? You understand we're most anxious to have the missing artifact returned."

"We're still working the case." Burke told him.

"Actually Mr. Wells, we're hoping you might be able to give us some idea on what was in the box itself." Olivia took a walk around the exhibit, hoping that fresh eyes might give her some insight.

"How should I know that?"

She was surprised at his defensive tone. "I assume it was x-rayed when the items came through customs."

"Not necessarily," Burke murmured. "Depending on the cultural sensitivity involved."

That seemed incredibly lax to her, and not entirely in keeping with current homeland security protocol. She turned to say so, but the curator was between her and Burke. He had moved so quickly from the other side of the room, like she'd blinked and then he was there.

"Really, I need to know if you have any idea on where the artifact is. Did you identify the thief?"

Something was wrong in his expression. This wasn't the same mild, accommodating man from yesterday. Olivia was used to following her instincts. Something had happened, but she wasn't sure what. "We can help you more if you could give us some background on the box itself." She started to back up, maybe circle around him and join Burke on the other side of the room.

"You know something." Wells glowered at her. His voice caused the hair to rise on the back of Olivia's neck.

"You're not David Wells." Olivia went for her sidearm, but before she could draw it she found herself being flung across the room. She hit the wall hard enough to have the wind knocked out of her.

"Let her go!" Burke shouted, his own weapon in hand. Brave of him, since Wells was apparently holding her with the power of his mind.

"Go ahead, shoot, for all the good that will do you." Wells didn't even look in Peter's direction. "Tell me what you know about the artifact in the box."

"Why do you want it?" Olivia countered.

Wells glared at her with eyes that went completely black – just like Parker in the surveillance video.

"You're a demon." Olivia never thought those words would ever leave her mouth. However, this case seemed to break all the rules.

The demon laughed. "No shit, genius. And I want the angel’s weapon"

Before she could respond to that little tidbit, she heard Burke chanting on the other side of the room. His voice was low and halting, but gained strength as he continued, the words coming faster and stronger.

"No, stop, what are you…" The demon staggered back away from Olivia. He shook his head, as if trying to shake something off. Then he shuddered from head to toe. Burke kept up whatever it was he was doing.

Olivia found herself able to move again. She took a step forward and pulled out her sidearm. But the demon didn't pay any attention to her. He threw his head back and stretched his mouth open wide – impossibly wide – as a cloud of black smoke emerged and darted away like a giant snake.

Wells fell to the ground and didn't get up again. Olivia ran to his side and was peripherally aware of Burke joining her. "He'd got a pulse." She looked up as Burke knelt next to her. "What the hell was that?"

"An exorcism." He gave her a tight lipped smile. "I went to Catholic high school. Father MacCauley, senior year religion class, made us all memorize it. He said it would save our lives one day. Never expected him to be right." Burke let out a laugh. "Surprised I remembered it."

"We're lucky you did." Olivia sat back. "So. Demons."

"I'm going to have to apologize to Neal. God, I hate doing that."

She laughed, and winced at the slightly hysterical note to it. "Can you call the paramedics? Wells should really get checked out."

"Not sure how the EMTs will test for possession." But Burke was already up and dialing.

Olivia glanced around the room. There had to be something here, some kind of clue. They would just have to keep looking.

***

Hardison stared at his laptop screen, his fingers poised over the keys. For once, he was at a loss, unsure what to type. This wasn't exactly the kind of thing you googled. He had tons of archives at his disposal, anything digitized by any library around the world. And yet, he couldn't quite make himself begin.

It didn't help that the rest of the team all seemed to be out there doing something. He glanced over to the machine that was spoofing Neal's tracking data, just to double check. Yep, still fooling the marshals. There, that task done.

Right now Neal and Sophie were out there interviewing the owner of the new age store that had been robbed last night. Hardison had dropped them off himself, having become a glorified chauffeur.

He had to get out of here. Eliot was right – Hardison needed to do his best work to save Parker. But if he sat here and dwelled, then he'd only realize exactly how screwed they were. Maybe a soda would help. It was about time for a sugar rush.

There was chatter in his ear piece – mostly Neal and Sophie, some of Dean and Eliot, but Sam and Nate were pretty quiet. If he wanted to, Hardison could narrow down the conversations on his computer, listening only to the feeds he wanted to. Usually there was only the five of them to coordinate, so this sudden expansion of the group left things a little more confused than usual.

He dropped a few bucks on a Mountain Dew and a pack of Skittles at a little bodega on the corner. The sugar should kick in fast. Hardison already planned where he'd look first. They had to have something at the Vatican library. He was just hoping they’d digitized it.

"Hello, Alec."

He stopped cold, not even noticing that he'd dropped his candy. Parker stood outside the van, leaning against the door as if just waiting for him to arrive. But it wasn't Parker, not with that accent.

And Hardison didn't have a single thing he could defend himself with. "Christ," he snapped, just for the satisfaction of watching her eyes turn black. No, this was not the woman he cared for. "Get the hell out of her."

"Why? I'm having so much fun." She smiled Parker's smile and it twisted his gut. Then she snapped her fingers and Hardison found himself flung against the wall of the nearest building. He hit his head so hard everything started to spin.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit."

He couldn't breathe. She was choking him, like some fucked-up Jedi gone bad. He gasped for air, wishing he hadn't been so dumb to leave the holy water Dean had given him in the van.

The demon stepped closer and as his vision grayed out, Hardison was glad the last thing he saw was Parker's face.


	7. Chapter 6

Sam could tell Nate had something to say. Every time Sam turned away, he’d catch the older man studying him, as if trying to figure Sam out. Well, good luck with that. 

They were ensconced in the reading room of the library, and Sam kept flashing back to that scene in the movie Ghostbusters and was on the verge of laughing. If he were here with Dean, his brother would get it. Right now, however, Sam had to focus on the case and the book he was sorting through. Nate had his own tome. Both had been suggested by the librarian on duty.

Nate cleared his throat. "So, angels and demons, huh?"

Sam closed his book and rubbed his eyes. It was going to be one of those conversations. "Yeah."

"If angels exist, then what about God?"

Oh, this was not news Sam wanted to deliver. "He's checked out. Left it all behind, heaven, hell, to whoever is strong enough to rule."

"There is a heaven, then?" There was such a hopeful note in Nate's voice.

Sam didn't know exactly how to respond. If he answered yes, then he'd have to explain how he knew. Nate probably wouldn't react well to knowing how Sam and Dean had almost destroyed the world, and yet were deemed valuable enough to be brought back to life, again and again.

"Look," he said instead. "Sometimes things don't always look so nice from my point of view. Ghosts can be nasty things, but they were once human beings too."

He could tell Nate picked up on his misdirection. Nate Ford seemed too intelligent of a man to not realize Sam was trying to change the subject, and hell, he might be smart enough to figure out why too.

Then Nate stiffened and leaned his head to one side. "Hardison? Hardison, are you all right?"

Sam had been tuning out the conversation in his ear – he'd gotten good at ignoring the voices in his head – but now pressed his hand against his ear piece and tried to listen in to whatever Nate was hearing.

"Get the hell out of her." Came loud and clear over the line.

Oh, this couldn't be good.

***

"That's it? That's all you can tell us?" Eliot stood, and Dean got between him and the professor's desk before the hot-headed idiot could actually shake down the elderly gentleman.

"You'll have to forgive my research partner. He's very enthusiastic." Dean put a hand on Eliot's chest to calm him down. Eliot gave him a glare in return.

The professor reseated his glasses on his face and swallowed hard. "I see. I'm very sorry, but the inscription only makes mention of a most holy artifact. Nothing about any ritual."

"Thanks for your time. Come on." Dean led the way out of the tiny office crammed from floor to ceiling with books. The place reminded him a bit of Bobby's and he had to get out of there.

Eliot wasn't happy. "There's more we could have asked him."

"Like what? He's an expert in a dead angel language, not demonic rituals. Maybe that's the problem." All of Bobby's books were in storage, and there wasn't time to retrieve them. Even if Dean could make the drive fast enough and come back, there was still the problem of sorting through them all. Without Bobby's brain, they'd have no idea where to start. "I say we go back to the museum and see if we can…"

Sudden static in his earpiece had Dean wincing as he turned away and pressed his hand to his ear. What the hell was going on?

"Why Dean Winchester, it's been a very long time, hasn’t it?"

He didn't recognize the voice at all. Eliot whispered, "Parker" and looked shell shocked enough that Dean figured out this was the possessed girl they were trying to rescue.

"I'm sorry, but who the hell is this?" He winced at the thought. "Ruby?"

"I'm offended, Dean. You're telling me you don't remember the lovely time we had together in hell?" There was a very slight British lilt to her voice, and that's what clinched it for him.

"Bela." Of course. She'd been trapped in hell for what must be hundreds of years now. Dean was only surprised she still remembered him after being twisted into a demon.

"It's been very amusing listening to all of you, and it's cute how you're trying to stop me." Her voice was downright perky. "But you're too late. Now that I've got Alec here, I'm all set. So even though it would be nice to see you again, Dean, I'm going to have to say goodbye."

With that the static showed up again. Dean winced and tugged at his ear.

"Nate, what the hell was that?" Eliot shouted.

"We shouldn't be discussing it, she can still hear us." Sam's voice cut through everyone else's.

"Sam's right. Meet back at Neal's." Nate spoke over him.

Dean didn't know what they were going to do now.

***

Hardison woke with a start, his entire body aching, but he couldn't move to relieve any of the discomfort. Someone had tied his ass to a chair. He tugged at his bonds, but found himself knotted up real good.

Heart pounding in his throat, Hardison took a quick look around. He was being held in somebody's basement. A few light bulbs hung from the ceiling, casting the place in a dim glow. It stank like mold and damp. There were crates stacked up against the walls, next to some shopping bags – yes, shopping bags. He recognized the high end labels from Sophie's collection.

The creaking of a door opening had him twisting around, but Hardison was tied up good. He couldn't even look behind him. But he didn't have to wait long before the footsteps approached him and the demon wearing Parker strolled in front of him.

She was dressed in a charcoal gray pantsuit and sky high heels. Maybe on a normal day, he could appreciate the way the fabric hugged her curves. But all Hardison could think was how the outfit was so not the Parker he knew.

"Oh you're awake." She ran a hand down Hardison's cheek and he stiffened at the touch. "Don't be like that, Alec." Kicking one leg over, she straddled his lap and put both arms around his neck.

"I know what you are," he told her, his voice raspy. "Don't pretend."

She laughed. "I had hoped we could spend this time together a little more amiably. It's not like you have very long to live."

"You are batshit crazy." He had to hide the way her words sent fear down his spine.

"You know she's very fond of you." The pout looked wrong on Parker's face. It hurt to be this close to her and know it was the demon riding her body. "Of course, that's why I need to sacrifice you at midnight."

"Parker." He couldn't help it, Hardison had to try. "Parker, girl, we're gonna save you. Just hold on, all right?"

The smile twisted. "Oh, she's fighting all right. Giving it everything she's got. But I'm in charge here."

"Why her?" Hardison asked desperately. "Why does it have to be Parker?"

"Because she's a thief. A great thief. I wouldn't have to build my reputation all over again." She slid off of his lap. "Maybe you heard of me? My name was once Bela Talbot."

Hardison wished for his laptop so he could google her. Instead he could only shrug.

She huffed and made for the stack of shopping bags in the corner. It seemed the conversation was over. "It doesn't matter. I thought we might have a little fun before tonight, but I see I was mistaken. If you'll excuse me," she threw a wicked smile in his direction, one he'd once have given anything to see before on his Parker's face. "I have an altar to desecrate."

"Oh don't mind me, just sitting here, tied to this chair." He tugged at the ropes again, wishing he knew the trick for slipping out of them. "Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Nice try." She pulled something out of her pocket and to Hardison's chagrin, he saw it was his earpiece. "I know everything she knows, Alec Hardison. Down here, nobody will hear you scream."

***

"That is most fascinating, Agent Dunham. It sounds like a non-corporeal life form that depends on human beings in order to function in our world."

Olivia pressed the phone closer to her ear and checked over her shoulder as Burke continued to go through the papers on Wells' desk. The curator had let them search his office, having no memory of anything that had happened since yesterday. He was a little shell-shocked, but had refused further medical attention.

"If that's true, Walter, then why did it respond to an exorcism?" Olivia hadn't put aside the possibility of a scientific explanation, but she couldn't deny what she'd seen.

"Many life forms respond to sound waves. Perhaps the exorcism produces tonal sounds that were anathema to it." Even Walter sounded like he was reaching.

"I'll call you back if I get any more information. Thanks." Olivia ended the conversation and then rejoined Burke, who'd stopped sorting and sat reading something from the piles of papers. "Find anything?"

"Maybe. Neal said the demon they were chasing was about to do some ritual with whatever was in the box."

They still had no idea what that was. Olivia hoped something here might change that. "And?"

"Here's a list of possible locations for the ritual. I think the demon we exorcised was trying to crash it." Burke looked up. "It's time we joined up with Neal and his new friends."

She agreed.

***

Sam paced the length of Neal's apartment, waiting for Dean to get back with Eliot. Neal and Sophie had already returned, sitting on the couch with large glasses of wine. Nate sat at the table pouring through the book Sam had appropriated from the library.

The door opened and Dean strode in, the expression on his face unreadable. Sam went to his side, ignoring Eliot in the doorway and everyone else.

"You never mentioned talking to Bela in hell."

Dean rubbed his face. "There's a lot I didn't tell you about hell."

"Do we even want to know?" Neal didn't move from his perch on the couch.

Sam shook his head. "Probably not." It would take all night just to explain the crazy ride the past three years had been – and that had been after Dean returned from hell. Sam was starting to like these people. He wasn't quite ready to admit to nearly being responsible for the apocalypse.

"Look, we've all done shady things in our past." Eliot closed the door before turning around to face Sam and Dean. Sam got the feeling he knew what he was talking about. "But we gotta focus on finding Hardison."

"That might prove a little difficult since this Bela appropriated the van, too." Neal put his glass on the table. "When Sophie and I got back to the street, it was gone."

Great, that meant most of their tech was gone too. Sam had his own laptop, but he was nowhere near as skilled as the hacker. "We can't track his GPS?"

"The one person who can find Hardison IS Hardison." Nate narrowed his eyes. "Tell them the good news, Sam."

Oh, right. "Nate and I found the ritual."

That perked up everyone in the room. They gathered around the table as Sam pulled out the crumbling tome that smelled slightly of mold and dust. "I guess you really can find everything at the library."

Dean flipped through the pages, the frown on his face only growing deeper. "Are Parker and Hardison a thing?"

"What?"

"Are they dating?" Sam translated the Dean-speak. He knew why Dean was asking, he'd seen the same section in the ritual himself.

Nate, Sophie and Eliot all exchanged looks. "It's complicated," Sophie finally answered. "Why?"

"The ritual requires a sacrifice. It must be a person the mea-host body cares for." Sam stumbled over "meatsuit" figuring the word would be insulting when referring to their friend.

There was silence in the room. The stakes had risen now, there were two lives on the line. Sam swallowed and continued. "We still don't know quite where the ritual needs to take place. It states only a place of great spiritual significance."

"That could be a lot of churches in the city alone." Eliot grumbled.

"All right, let's take a step back." Nate tapped the table. "This demon – Bela – you knew her?"

Sam and Dean exchanged looked. "Bela Talbot, yeah."

"I know that name." Sophie sat up. "She was a thief known for very specific kinds of merchandise. But she went missing a few years ago."

"And by missing, you mean ripped apart by hell hounds," Dean said under his breath.

Sam held up a hand to stop Dean from any more stupid comments. "That's how demons are made. They're human souls twisted in hell."

"But she remembers enough about her old life to want it back. Did she have a base of operations? Something we can look into?"

A brisk knock on the door had them all stiffening. Neal put his finger to his lips and went to the door. "June?" he called.

"No, it's Peter."

Neal turned to them and mouthed "FBI" before calling back: "Peter, this isn't exactly a good time."

There was a pause, and Sam held his breath. Then Peter said, "What if I told you that Agent Dunham and I spent the afternoon exorcising a demon?"

"Seriously?" Neal seemed about as flummoxed as the rest of them.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…" Came the reply.

Sam exchanged a look with Dean. "That doesn't prove anything," he whispered, "But yeah, that's the Rituale Romanum."

Neal let out a sigh. Then he turned and threw the door open.

"Well," Agent Burke said. "It's about time."

***

Olivia didn't know what to expect when they walked into Neal's apartment. He had told Burke he was working with the one who'd helped Sam Winchester escape, but she didn't quite know what to make of the motley group gathered around the kitchen table.

"Mr. Papadokalis, I presume?" Her lips twitched as she acknowledged Sam's "lawyer."

"Wait, that's the lawyer?" Burke pointed. "I know you. You were in insurance, right? I interviewed you for that case…"

"That was a very long time ago." He stood and threw his shoulders back, as if deciding to throw everything into the wind. "I'm Nate Ford. You're not exactly meeting us at our best."

The only other woman in the room got to her feet and held out her hand. Olivia shook it, amused despite herself.

"Sophie Devereaux."

"Olivia Dunham."

"That's a fabulous pants suit, by the way." Sophie cupped both hands around Olivia's before letting her go.

"Uh, thank you?" That didn't clear up Olivia's confusion. "What exactly is your role here?"

"I'm the resident grifter." Sophie sent a look over in Neal's direction. "Of course, that was before Neal joined us."

"Neal!"

"Look, Peter…"

"We don't have time for this." A man stepped forward. Olivia recognized him from his mug shots as the other Winchester brother.

"He's right." Nate stepped up. "Since you haven't arrested us yet, I'm guessing you're here to help."

Olivia exchanged a look with Burke. They'd come for information, actually, and it appeared that these people knew what was going on. "We want to know what we're helping with."

Sophie let out a little sigh. "If Hardison was here, he'd have an entire presentation ready for you that would explain the whole thing."

"With bullet points." The speaker had long hair and piercing blue eyes. Olivia didn't recognize him from any of her files.

Neal went to the door. "I'll see if June can send up some dinner. This may take a while and we still need to plan for tonight." He slipped out.

"What the hell is tonight?" Burke whirled around.

"Sammy, you wanna take this?" Dean turned to his brother. He got a grimace in response. "Hey, you're the one who found the ritual."

Sam attempted a smile. Seeing him outside the interrogation room was more than slightly awkward. "All right. A friend of theirs…" he gestured to Nate and the others. "named Parker was possessed by a demon. I assume from earlier that you're familiar with demons?"

"Not before today," Burke grumbled.

"We went to investigate the museum again. The curator was possessed. He wanted what was inside the box." Olivia filled them in briefly, explaining how Burke managed to pull the exorcism out of his ass.

"The artifact that's in the box, when used in a proper ritual, will permanently bind a demon to its host body. That's what we want to stop." The way Sam held himself now made Olivia think of a lost puppy. His brown eyes were beseeching her to believe him.

Burke rubbed his eyes. "Tell me there's a way to prevent demonic possession?"

Sam met his brother's gaze and the two of them pulled down their shirts simultaneously to reveal matching tattoos over their hearts. "Of course, charms would work, too."

"Dinner will be up soon." Neal had returned. He grinned as everyone looked his way. "Oh, nice ink." 

"Don't even think about it."

"We do have one problem." Sam picked up the dusty book on the table. "We haven't been able to find the demon possessing Parker and now she's kidnapped one of us to use as a sacrifice in the ritual."

The pulse in Burke's forehead looked like it was about to explode. "You know, normally shit like this I kick down to Garcia. But after this afternoon, I don't know what to think."

"That's what finally convinced Hendrickson, too, although in his case he was possessed himself."

Olivia stiffened. "That's what happened to Hendrickson?" His death was probably the biggest mystery she'd encountered in her examination of the Winchester files.

Once again the brothers appeared to communicate mentally. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"I've read your file," she explained. "I think complicated is putting it mildly."

Burke snorted. "And trust me, she's one to know."

He had a point, although Olivia could never share anything about her real work with the Winchesters. "I do think we can help you. See, one of the things we found in the curator's office today was possible locations for a ritual, and if he was looking for the artifact in the box…"

"Then he was looking to do the same ritual." Dean snapped his fingers.

"That still leaves us with the problem of stopping the ritual. I don't think you can call backup for this one, Peter." Neal stepped up next to Burke. They looked right together, like partners.

Nate cleared his throat. "We'll just have to figure out how to con a demon."

This was definitely not like most of her usual operations.


	8. Chapter 7

Sitting with Peter in the Taurus while traffic flitted by should feel normal. But this wasn't any other stakeout. They were parked outside of St. Patrick's Cathedral, where a demon was planning a human sacrifice.

"What do you say, Peter? Want to get matching anti-possession tattoos?" Neal held his hand over his heart.

"That's probably the least crazy thing you've said tonight." Peter's hands tightened on the steering wheel, even though they weren't going anywhere.

Neal sat back, keeping the cathedral in view. During the day he could appreciate the spires reaching for the heavens, and the beauty of the classic architecture. Now he just worried it was too big to cover, that they didn't have a chance in hell of stopping the demon.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

The paint on Neal's chest was starting to itch, but he refrained from scratching. Even the slightest change in the sigils inked on his skin could change the meaning irrevocably. "Do you honestly think we can drive away, and show up at the offices tomorrow pretending that ghosts and goblins don't exist?"

Peter poked him in the arm, hard. "I just think there might be a better way of snaring the demon than using yourself as bait."

"She'll be expecting that. It's the unexpected that gives us the edge." Neal looked out and saw Sophie approaching the great bronze doors. That was his signal. "Remember, you're our backup, Mr. Exorcist."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"My only regret is that I won't be able to share it with Jones and Diana." Neal opened the car door and gave Peter one last look before trotting up to meet Sophie.

There wasn't going to be anything secret about their entrance. They were the dancing polar bear in this scenario. Eliot, Sam, and Dean were all strategically placed inside the cathedral, though Neal didn't know where. Nate, Agent Dunham and Peter were backup, stationed outside, in case something did go wrong.

"Testing, one, two, three," Neal murmured into his watch.

"Hear you loud and clear." Dunham's voice came down the line. They couldn't use the little earpiece communicators Hardison had programmed, for fear the demon was still listening in, so Peter had borrowed some equipment from the office.

"You ready for this?" Sophie asked in a low voice.

Neal pushed open one large bronze door. "Well, as much as I can be."

The lights were on, giving the entire interior a cozy glow. But they also cast shadows everywhere, and Neal was conscious of every single statue along his periphery, seeing movement where there was none.

"There." Sophie pointed. Someone stood at the altar, and there was a figure bound and prone on the steps leading up to it. Neal saw a splash of red and hoped it wasn't blood.

"Showtime," he murmured. "Let's go."

Sophie strode up the center aisle, her heels ridiculously loud on the marble floor. "Parker! Parker, please, what are you doing here?"

Neal followed, as if there for moral support. As they got close, he could clearly make out the figure on the dais – a young woman with long blond hair. He nearly missed a step when he noticed the objects on the altar table itself – a wicked looking knife, a skull, a glass container filled with a dark viscous liquid, and a small object covered by a white cloth.

Hardison was struggled against the ropes around his wrists, but he didn't seem to be making any headway. He couldn't speak for the gag in his mouth. Neal made for his side, but was stopped by an invisible barrier.

Bela stood with her hand out, providing the force keeping Neal from moving any closer. "Well, I suppose I should give you some credit for finding me."

He tried to step back, but found he couldn't move. Panic rose in his throat. This was rapidly seeming like a really bad idea.

"Of course we'd find you. You have to let her go." Sophie threw herself forward, but couldn't seem to get very far. "Parker is innocent."

The demon laughed, her eyes liquid black. "What, are you volunteering to take her place? I know exactly how little innocence you have, Sophie Devereaux."

Sophie stilled and for the first time Neal could see the crack in her veneer. Hopefully it was just slight enough that the demon wouldn't notice. "Experience should count for something, shouldn't it?"

Her words didn't seem to convince the demon, but they did make her come down from the altar. "You're seriously offering."

Sophie gave her a smile, and just like that, the con was back in play. "As long as you free Parker and Hardison."

Hardison tried to shout something through his gag, but it was too muffled to make out. Neal wished he could signal him in some way, but that would blow everything.

The demon didn't answer right away. She stared at Neal with narrowed eyes. "Who is this? She doesn't know him."

It took Neal a moment to realize the demon meant that Parker didn't know him. She couldn't use that knowledge to figure him out. Good.

"That's just Neal, he's nobody." Sophie tossed out.

Which of course, meant that he was somebody. The demon came closer and Neal gave her his best smile. Now they had to lead her to the next conclusion – that perhaps she had better options than stealing Parker's body. And once she chose either Sophie or Neal, the sigils on their bodies would immobilize her long enough for the lengthy exorcism.

Or that was how the plan was supposed to go. Instead the demon tugged at the collar of Neal's shirt and laughed when she saw the symbols there. "Did you honestly think I was that stupid?"

"Maybe we hoped." Neal wasn't too concerned. Plan B existed for a reason.

Chanting came from the left of them. Neal could see Sam and Dean in the baptistery out of the corner of his eye. They'd have plenty of holy water. As the demon turned to confront them, the whirlwind known as Eliot leaped over the altar table and launched himself at her.

They tumbled to the ground together, and for a moment Neal was able to break free of the demon's telekinetic grasp. He made for Hardison's side and tried to undo the ropes, but they were tight, so tight his circulation must be compromised. Well, she hadn't been planning on letting Hardison live, so why worry about his limbs?

Before he could go for his knife, Eliot flew past him, the back of his head hitting the table hard. He slumped to the ground, not moving. Neal pushed himself to his feet, but he was flung back as well, managing to cover his head just in time.

The demon moved – fast, almost too fast to see – grabbing at something on the altar. She turned, just in time to get a face full of holy water from Sam Winchester. Coughing and smoking, she stumbled, but held on to the object she'd snatched.

She held up her hand and knocked both brothers off of their feet, stopping the chanting abruptly. Neal watched in horror as Sam and Dean clutched at their throats. She was choking them.

He hoped like hell the FBI bug was still working before turning into his lapel and whispering the safe word.

***

In another life Dean might have thought the blond chick was pretty hot. But he could see the demon in her, in her every move and the way she spoke. Both were just the shadow of what Bela Talbot had been. He tried to speak, but nothing could come out without air.

Bela stood over him, her eyes slick like oil and her face twisted into a parody of a smile. "Well, Dean, this is certainly a change, isn't it? Me torturing you? How does it feel to be on the other side, Dean?"

He'd spent forty years on the other side. Dean regretted a lot of things he’d done while dead, but nothing more than what he'd done to Bela.

There really wasn't a good way to say "hey, I'm sorry for torturing you in hell!" Hallmark didn't make a card for that occasion. He couldn't speak anyway, she'd kept up the pressure on his throat, and he was already starting to see black spots. Dean held on to consciousness as best he could.

The sound of a gunshot had Bela whirling away from him. The grip on his throat eased just a bit and Dean took in great gulps of air.

"Get away from him." It was Olivia, aiming her gun right at Bela's head. Neal must have popped the safe word.

"Please. You wouldn't risk harming this body."

Olivia tilted her head to one side. "I could always shoot you in the kneecap. That's not fatal and I'm a pretty good shot."

Now if Burke could just get in here with the exorcism, they'd be golden. Dean struggled to sit up, but she was still holding him down. That shouldn't be possible. Bela was a relatively new demon, how could she have them all restrained like this?

"I don't doubt that, but I honestly have plans for tonight." The gun was tugged out of Olivia's hand, floating across the church, over the pews and into Bela's grasp. "You'll all just have to watch. It's getting close to midnight."

As she spoke a gust of wind rustled through the cathedral, causing the candles to flicker. Dean shuddered at the sudden chill. He heard a sound, something that reminded him of wings flapping.

"Stay back!" Bela called.

Only then did Dean see Nate Ford coming up the center aisle. This wasn't part of the plan at all. What the hell was he doing? It wasn't until Ford got within feet of Bela and cocked his head to one side that Dean figured it out. The gesture was so reminiscent of Cas that it made his stomach hurt.

It made sense. Nate had mentioned his stint in seminary.

"I said stay back!" She motioned with her hand, the one that held the thing she'd snatched from the altar. Dean couldn’t catch a glimpse of it.

Nate continued on his way, impervious to whatever she was doing.

"What are you?" For the first time, Dean saw fear on Bela's face.

"You know what I am. You've stolen something that belongs to me." Nate, or whoever was in him, held out a hand, and the object came flying into his grasp.

That must be the thing that was in the damn box! It was small enough to fit in the palm of a hand, but long and cylindrical. Dean couldn't figure out what the hell it was.

Bela lifted the gun she'd stolen from Olivia and took a shot. The bullet fell to the ground, harmless.

"Nate?" Sophie asked.

"Not Nate," Dean croaked out. Bela's hold on him faded and he pushed himself to his feet. "He's been touched by an angel."

She shot him a look, but Dean couldn't explain, not yet, not when Nate was moving toward Bela and reaching for her face. "Cover your eyes!" He shouted, tucking his own face under one arm. Cas could exorcise without going all glowy, but Dean didn't know a damn thing about this new angel.

It didn't last long. Dean could see the light even through his shielded eyelids, and he felt the building shudder beneath his feet. This guy must have some major juice.

"Be at peace," the angel said.

Dean peeked out over his arm before letting his guard down. The angel stood over the girl, who'd collapsed to the floor of the church. She was breathing, however, and there wasn't any blood leaking from her eyes. Maybe this wouldn't end up in a total cluster fuck.

"Who are you?" Sam came up behind Dean, rubbing at his shoulder. Dean reminded himself to take a look at it later.

The angel regarded them both with a careful gaze, and Dean hadn't felt so inadequate since the first time he met Cas. He was conscious of who they were – former vessels of the apocalypse – and how they might be seen in heaven right about now. He didn't expect the angel's answer.

"I am called Gabriel."

Sam gave Dean a quick look. "But, you died."

"Ah." The angel nodded. "That explains why I did not rejoin with the rest of my grace."

It took Dean a moment, but then he remembered – the box had been sealed with part of an angel's grace. When the box was opened, it had dissipated, but apparently there was enough to have its own consciousness. It made his head hurt to think about.

"If I may ask," Sam said, lowering his head a little. "What were you protecting? What was so important in that box?"

Gabriel held out the object he'd taken back from Bela. It seemed to shimmer in Dean's view, becoming much larger than what it had been before. Dean could make out a long twisting horn. "When it is time, I shall blow this to usher in the end of the world."

"Do we tell him that he missed his cue?" Dean whispered to Sam.

Sam ignored Dean. "So it's not a weapons we can use against the Leviathans?"

"The Leviathans have risen?" Gabriel's face darkened. "There is much I need to learn."

And most of it wasn't pretty. Dean just hoped he didn't have to be the one to explain it to the angel.

***

As soon as Neal cut the ropes, Hardison crawled over to where Parker had fallen. He touched her face, letting out a sigh of relief to feel the warmth of her skin. Stroking her cheek, he whispered, "Parker, hey, Parker."

Her eyes fluttered open and it was a relief to see them her normal blue. "Hardison?"

"Hey, girl." He swallowed against the thickness in his throat. "It took me a while, but I found you."

She grinned at him and the smile made his heart flutter. "I knew you would."

For a moment he forgot they were in the Cathedral, that there were other people around, everything. He heard nothing but the sound of her voice, and that was just perfect.

But then real life had to intrude. Neal, who hadn't gone very far, came over and introduced himself. "I just want to say it's a honor to meet you. I honestly didn't think you were real."

Parker blinked but shook his head. "You're Neal Caffrey? The Neal Caffrey?"

He beamed at her and Hardison felt a moment of jealousy. Stupid Neal Caffrey, mister international art thief. But then Parker put her hand in his and he felt warmth seep through him.

"St. George and the Dragon?" She said to him.

"Allegedly," he responded. "The Hope Diamond?"

"Boring."

"I don't even want to know." Hardison looked around, and it was like everything sped up back to normal speed. The Winchesters were talking to Nate – or whatever the hell was going on with Nate. He pushed himself to his feet, taking Parker with him and raised his voice. "Not to be ungrateful, but what the heck is going on?"

***

That was just what Olivia was going to ask, as Burke joined her. He was the last one left outside for backup, and he looked a little pissed off, probably at being left out of everything.

Dean shrugged and exchanged looks with his brother. "Your friend Nate let an angel borrow his body."

"You mean an angel possessed him?" Eliot – looking bruised from his encounter with the demon – scrambled to his feet.

Olivia didn't know when exactly he regained consciousness, but she bet he had one hell of a concussion. Her instinct was to call the paramedics, and her hand twitched, remembering how her sidearm had been snatched by the demon's powers. This might not be the best time to call for backup.

The angel bristled at Eliot's words. "This vessel gave permission."

"Yeah, angels have to ask first. When Gabe leaves you're gonna want to tell Nate not to do that." Dean shook his head.

"Without a vessel, humans can't look at an angel's true form," Sam explained. "That's what happened to the four guys in the museum."

The angel – and Olivia never thought she'd ever encounter something quite like that – tilted his head to one side and looked almost sad.

"That was most regrettable. The sigils on the container should have warned them away."

"Yeah, but not everyone speaks ancient Enochian. Fuck, it's been a long time since you've been around, huh?" Dean said.

"Do not blaspheme in this holy place."

"Wait a minute," Olivia interrupted. "You're the reason for the deaths in the museum?"

"Not like he could help it," Sam said. "When they opened the box, they're the ones who released his true form. If you need to blame someone, blame Bela."

"That demon has been vanquished."

Olivia had no idea what she was going to put in her report. She could try the truth, but imagined the look on Broyles face when he read it. At least this case had nothing to do with the other universe, and she could close the book on it knowing exactly what happened.

"I take it you're not going to want to return that uh, horn, to the museum?" Burke sounded glum. There was the matter of the international incident this theft had caused.

Neal coughed. "I'm sure we could come up with a replacement."

From Caffrey's reputation, Olivia knew that no one would notice the difference. She nodded. "I think that's what we're going to have to do."

When Burke remained silent, Neal looked a little shocked. "What? No lecture on the evils of forgery?"

"I think we've encountered a worse evil tonight." Burke pulled out his cell phone. "Clear the Cathedral. I have a friend in the NYPD I can call – tell them I saw some kids run in here, but they ran off by the time I got inside."

"Um, not to sound ungrateful," Dean said to the angel. "But you are going to leave Nate, right?"

"I must return to heaven to learn all that has happened in my absence. I cannot take this vessel there. I will free him. Shield your vision."

Olivia barely had time to hold her hands over her eyes before the flash of light and the sound of fluttering wings. When she opened them, Sophie ran to Nate, who'd tumbled into one of the pews.

"Don't you ever do anything like that again!" Sophie punched him in the arm.

"Trust me, not planning on it."


	9. Epilogue

"I never expected to get a tattoo at my age." Peter frowned at his reflection in the mirror, lifting up his shirt to reveal the anti-possession tattoo on his side.

Neal tried to keep from smiling. Peter still couldn't get over being inked, although he'd insisted they all follow suit. Neal had his placed on his back, while El had chosen her shoulder blade. He was sure if Peter could order Jones and Diana to get them, he'd do it. Hell, even Satchmo had an anti-possession charm added to his collar.

"I think it makes you look dangerous, honey." El came down the stairs, kissing her husband before pushing him aside to check her makeup in the mirror. "Like a biker."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Just the look I was going for."

Peter had taken the entire adventure incredibly seriously. His plans for the weekend apparently included proofing the entire house from any possible kind of monster, even those that didn't exist. June had showed Neal some protective glyphs that he'd sketched out for Peter, who'd made stencils.

Right now Peter stood in sweats, with buckets and brushes lining the hallway. This was the perfect moment to escape. "Ready, Elizabeth?"

She grabbed her purse. "Of course. I can never pass up shoe shopping."

"Excellent. Sophie is really looking forward to meeting you." Neal doffed his hat and moved to get the door.

"Stay away from my credit cards, Neal!" Peter called out as they left.

It didn't count as stealing if they were for El's purchases.

***

Olivia walked into Walter's lab, the folders for a new case already in one hand. Her thigh itched from the tattoo she'd gotten before leaving New York. At least she wouldn't have to explain that to anyone any time soon.

"Oh, Agent Dunham, would you like some licorice?" Walter had a long red strand he was already in the middle of chewing.

"No, thank you, Walter. I brought some new files for you to look at."

"Of course, of course. Only – what happened to those bodies you had me look at?" He dipped the licorice into a coffee mug and she winced, not entirely sure what was inside.

Luckily Astrid didn't seem to be around. Olivia was going to give her a highly edited version of events. But Walter deserved the truth. "Their eyes were burned out from witnessing the true form of an angel. It was accidental."

"An angel?" Walter looked flummoxed for a moment. "Of course. That would explain why there was no weapon residue."

"Yes." Olivia opened her case files. "I have something else for you to look into. More bodies, this time decapitated and their skin burned with Sodium Borate."

"Hmm?" Walter looked over the images.

Olivia hoped this would be the last time they encountered the supernatural. They had certainly plenty of weird cases of their own to tackle. She would distribute the charms Sam and Dean had given her. You never could be too careful.

***

"She'll be fine. Sophie's with her."

Hardison wished he could believe Eliot, but he'd just gotten Parker back. He didn't want to let her out of his sight, which was why he planted a button cam on her jacket. She probably knew about it, but was too polite to say anything.

"Have you seen Neal Caffrey?" He shot back, flipped through the feed on his laptop. "And put that damn sling back on before Nate sees you."

Eliot grumbled, but he pulled the sling back on before sitting down next to Hardison. "You know he's not going to steal her away."

Hardison made a face at his screen. "Oh my God, how much for a pair of shoes?"

Eliot leaned over. "Well, I suppose you could use those stilettos as a weapon, might contribute to the value."

There was a knock on the door to the van before Nate hopped back in. "Still spying on the girls?"

"Till Sophie finds the button camera." Hopefully she'd be sympathetic enough to let it slide. Hardison didn't know how much goodwill he had left, but he was willing to ride it for all it's worth.

"Excellent. I made appointments for us all at the tattoo parlor."

Hardison stiffened and looked at Eliot. Crap. He'd forgotten about that.

***

June smoothly shuffled the cards once, twice, then a third, this time fumbling the deck like a novice. It was important to keep one’s skills sharp.

“Ready to fleece some old ladies at canasta?” Mozzie watched from the doorway.

“Those biddies won’t know what hit them.” The small cons were often the most satisfying.

They shared a grin, then the smile faded from Mozzie’s face. “Have you seen Neal today?”

She hesitated, just a moment before answering, “I believe he’d out shopping with Mrs. Burke.”

Mozzie looked offended. “And Mrs. Suit didn’t invite me?”

June tucked the cards away in her purse. She had a matching deck sequestered in the inside pocket of her Dior jacket. “I believe he wanted to avoid introducing you to Ms. Devereaux.” Neal had muttered something under his breath about the two of them literally taking Manhattan, but June had pretended not to hear. “He did leave something for you.”

Mozzie took the crinkled sketch from her and stared at the stylized pentagram with his brow furrowed. “What?”

“Neal had that made into a tattoo.”

Mozzie looked up, his face white. “Then he knows.”

“Darling, we’ve had a trying few days.” June closed up her purse and reached for her hat. “Tell me, what do you know about angels?”

She wished she’d been able to capture the look on his face. It wasn’t every day that she managed to surprise Mozzie.

***

Sam finished his hot dog and offered Dean his soda. They had grabbed a quick bite from a street vendor before heading back on the road. His brother was quiet, but Sam wasn't sure what was bugging him.

"Are you…upset about Bela?" he asked. She'd made a deal and paid for it, but three years ago Dean had been in the same situation. He'd been lucky enough to have an angel pull him out instead of vanquishing him.

Dean waved the soda aside and kept his attention on the road. City traffic was always a bitch. "No. Just, no."

Sam shrugged and sucked the rest of the soda down. If Dean wanted to tell him, he would.

It wasn't until they were on the road for a good hour that Dean finally said, "If a remnant of Gabriel survived, you think…Cas?"

Sam didn't know how to answer. He pressed his fingers against the dashboard and cast about for something to say. "Well. Maybe."

"I just…keep expecting him to come back, you know?"

In their line of work, it was rare something stayed dead. But Sam had to help Dean get himself in gear. "Look, Dean. I don't know, I just don't know." He shifted in his seat and changed the subject. "The box was a bust, but do you think there might be some other ancient angel weapon out there that could help?"

Dean snorted. "What, you want to fly to Jordan and start our own archaeological dig?"

"It gives us a place to get started." Sam waited a beat.

"I could call Frank, tell him to look at ancient artifacts, see if anything turns up."

"Sounds good." Sam scrunched down in his seat. It was probably a good time to grab a nap while he could.

The Leviathan were still out there, but Sam and Dean wouldn't stop fighting. Now, they even had a few new allies to rely on if they needed the backup.

end


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